


Queer Eye for the "Straight" Guy

by JessJesstheBest



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Character, Dean's a hockey player, Fandom Trumps Hate, I couldn't NOT have my hockey boys in this come on, I'm sorry for any and all liberties I took with this show, M/M, OMG Check Please! crossover kinda, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy - Freeform, Sammy is only mentioned, i did what i had to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 19:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessJesstheBest/pseuds/JessJesstheBest
Summary: “Hi, and welcome toQueer Eye for the Straight Guy: celebrity edition. Where instead of the Fab Five, who are all experts in their fields, you have me, Dean Winchester, a bisexual hockey player who is slightly above average at these things.”“Today’s victim is Castiel Novak: world renowned entymologist specializing in honey bees. His latest research publication is receiving all kinds of awards so he’s going to have a little celebration tonight. That’s where I’m here to help.”





	Queer Eye for the "Straight" Guy

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY, six months after I was commissioned, this thing is done.  
> I'm truly sorry to my donation winner, Cindy. Lord knows you never asked to put up with my procrastinating ass.  
> But I'm truly happy with how this turned out! And I hope you, Cindy, and the rest of y'all are too!
> 
> This work is a part of the [Fandom Trumps Hate](https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/) auction. Check out some other cool works and support these charities this movement helps!

Never had Castiel been checked out with such scrutiny.

The man walked around him, eyes slowly dragging over his body, just on this side of appreciative. They were green and critical under contemplative eyebrows, pushed together to form a crease in the middle that Castiel kind of wanted to poke. The man’s arms were crossed over his chest, his thumb playing with his lower lip as he circled. 

Castiel just stood, arms loose at his sides, posture normal which was to say terrible. He watched the man watching him.

“Well,” the man said, facing Castiel but also kind of facing the large camera he’d brought with him. “The suit is awful but we can work with it. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of the trench coat?”

Castiel shook his head, his mouth grim. 

The man sighed. “Well, I’ll figure something out.”

He then explained to Castiel some of what he was going to be doing. Usually the exposition would take place among the five men who hosted, but Castiel understood this was a special case. The usual five men to do the job was now one.

 

_ “Hi, and welcome to  _ Queer Eye for the Straight Guy _ : celebrity edition. Where instead of the Fab Five, who are all experts in their fields, you have me, Dean Winchester, a bisexual hockey player who is slightly above average at these things.” _

 

Castiel was, in this scenario, ‘the straight guy.’ He supposed that description fit simply by process of elimination. He knew he wasn’t gay because he did not wish to have sex with men. He didn’t particularly want to have sex with women but he liked them well enough: enjoyed the softness of their lips when they’d kissed him and liked their smell and general company.

So yes, Castiel could be the straight guy.

Although Dean Winchester’s shoulders looked very nice…

 

_ “Today’s victim is Castiel Novak: world renowned entymologist specializing in honey bees. His latest research publication is receiving all kinds of awards so he’s going to have a little celebration tonight. That’s where I’m here to help.” _

 

“Okay, Cas, it may only be me, but I’ve still got some hired guns to help me move shit – er – junk around your apartment.” Dean turned to a woman wearing headphones. “Do I have to say that again?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “If you would, please.”

Dean sighed and repeated himself, this time leaving out the swear word.

This was all far too much production for Castiel. He preferred quiet libraries or the gentle hum of apiaries to the clapboards and shouted instructions of a television set.

_ “A necessary evil _ “his agent had called it. “ _ How do you expect to get more funding, Castiel, if no one cares about your research?” _

Castiel had thought this quite unfair and demonstratively untrue. Plenty of people cared about his research! Students and… kindergarten teachers…

Castiel supposed those groups didn’t pay very much. He may have seen Meg’s point.

He didn’t know why that meant he had to be involved with a reality show, though. He glowered at the camera.

Dean smiled at him, unaffected. “I have given the crew my instructions so now I can whisk you away for a fun makeover montage.” 

Castiel turned his glower on Dean. 

He winked. “Yes, you’re very scary. Let’s go.”

 

Castiel experienced neither ‘fun’ nor a ‘montage’ as the case went as neither he nor Dean had very much patience with it. For all Dean’s schmoozing of the cameras, he was really rather straightforward with the entire enterprise. 

“We need to shave your face,” he told Castiel, the scrutinizing-eyebrow-crease back and better than ever. “I get how this mountain-man hairiness might work with your nature-science thing but we’re trying to get you sponsors for your research so we have to make you look hot.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You don’t like the beard?”

Dean smirked, looking away. The tips of his ears turned red. “It doesn’t matter what I like. We’re going for mainstream good looks. Which I know you have underneath all… that.”

Castiel frowned. “You just gestured to all of me.”

Dean smirked again and winked. “Exactly. Let’s get ‘er done.”

Dean took him to his favorite barber: a rather large, rough-looking man named Benny.

Castiel turned to Dean, gesturing toward Benny’s face. “Benny has a beard.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Benny also has an accent and can get away with it.”

Castiel turned to Benny who smiled, slow and easy. “Trust me, brother, you can get away with anything when you sound like a hot bowl o’ gumbo.”

Benny’s accent was cajun, which, Dean was right: it definitely went with the beard.

But still, Castiel wanted to make a point.

_ “Could I keep the beard if I spoke exclusively like this?”  _ he asked in Russian. 

Dean’s face burned bright red but he showed no comprehension for what Castiel had said. 

He repeated himself in English but with a thick Russian accent.

The blush was extending down Dean’s neck. Benny was eying him with a massive grin. He whistled. “Hooo, cher, looks like you really got into somethin’ here.”

Dean shook himself slightly and shoved his friend. “Shut up, Benny.”

He turned to Cas, not quite making eye contact. “Yeah, you could probably get away with a lot with that accent but,” He cleared his throat into his fist, looking Cas in the eye again, as if steeling himself. “We’re still shaving you. You can always grow it back later.”

Castiel scowled, collapsing in Benny’s chair like a petulant child.

Benny chuckled, immediately bringing his hands up to to sift through Castiel’s hair.

It had been a while since anyone had touched him like this – or at all, really. He let himself enjoy Benny’s gentle fingers. His eyes slipped closed.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me yet, cher.” Benny shook Castiel’s head a little, as if to bring him back to wakefulness. “We’ve still gotta wash ya.”

Castiel hummed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and led over to the wash sinks. But with the warm water and Benny’s gentle fingers massaging his scalp, he felt himself drift again.

He wasn’t so unaware, however, that he couldn’t hear. “You alright there, Dean?” Benny said, a smile in his voice. “Need me to get the smellin’ salts?”

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Castiel’s eyes were still closed but he had a feeling Dean’s ears were going red again.

“I’m just sayin’,” Benny added, “I remember how you was after Mashkov.”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. “Mashkov? Alexei Mashkov? That hockey player?”

Dean snorted. “Yes, Cas, the hockey player. Which makes sense since I am also, you know, a hockey player.”

Castiel made a noise in his throat in response to Dean’s tone. It made his next words perhaps harsher than he’d meant them. “Yes, but I’ve actually heard of Mashkov.”

The silence that followed was not a happy one. Castiel peeked one eye open, spying Dean in the corner looking hurt.

Damn.

“I just mean with the news a couple years ago,” Castiel tried to correct. “With him being the first NHL player to come out. It was a big deal.”

Dean rolled his eyes but his shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still looked hurt when Castiel closed his eyes again. Castiel allowed Benny to tilt his head back.

Dean said, “Actually it was Parson who came out first. Mashkov got dragged into it because they’re together and Zimmermann was kind of outed by default.”

Castiel said nothing. Only some of those names were familiar to him.

Dean continued to explain at Castiel’s silence. “Because of the rumors of Zimms and Parse in the Q? Before the overdose?” 

Castiel said nothing.

“Whatever, it’s not important.”

Castiel peeked his eye open again to see Dean with his arms crossed, his face set in what Castiel wouldn’t hesitate to call a pout.

He would hesitate to call that pout ‘adorable’ but only barely.

He sighed, closing his eyes once more. “Dean, please don’t be offended. I obviously know more about Mashkov because he’s Russian.”

Dean grunted but said nothing else. Castiel let him sulk and relaxed into Benny’s fingers.

The cut and shave really weren’t as bad as Castiel had made them out to be, the lack of hair making him feel immediately cleaner and more free. 

It helped that by the time he was finished, Dean seemed to be over whatever upset he’d had and blushed pleasantly pink again at the sight of him, staying pink while they said goodbye to Benny and headed for the clothing store Dean selected. Castiel rather liked Dean’s appreciation, delighting in every blush and stammer. It was nice to have someone so handsome think Castiel as someone worthy to be ogled.

“Give me your coat.”

Castiel appreciated Dean just a little bit less.

Dean rolled his eyes at Castiel’s glower. “Come on, man, I thought we were past this.” He held out his hand. “Give me your trench coat so I can hand it over to the tailors. I told you you could keep it but it still needs to be revamped. Or  _ cleaned _ at the very least.”

Castiel frowned but relinquished his coat. Dean grinned. 

“Excellent!” He handed the coat off to a random crew member. Castiel assumed it would go where it needed to. Castiel trusted Dean wouldn’t just throw it in a dumpster. “Now about the suit…”

Dean circled Castiel again, a reprise of the earlier inspection. He plucked at the lapel making a face of disgruntled curiosity. “Why do you even wear this? Aren’t you in libraries and hives and shit all day?”

The woman in headphones said nothing about the swear this time. Castiel figured they’d just cut this part in post-production. “I don’t usually wear the suit. I was under the impression that I was to dress up for the party. I was trying to save time.”

If this had been a normal episode of  _ Queer Eye _ , they would have already known this. They would have already gone through Castiel’s wardrobe and torn it apart, throwing away everything they found unsuitable.

But there was only one of Dean and they were on a time crunch. They hadn’t gotten to tearing up Castiel’s apartment at all; Dean had just told some men to move furniture around.

Dean raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Well your time-saving efforts were wasted because there’s no way I’m letting you wear this.” Castiel grunted, annoyed. “What do you usually wear?”

Castiel shrugged, not liking the feeling of his shoulders moving without the comfortable weight of his coat. “I usually wear jeans because they’re comfortable to sit in for long periods of time and tough enough to ward off stray stingers.”

Dean nodded, circling Castiel again, eyes on his legs this time. His eyebrows were hunched together in frustration once more, probably over the terrible fit of Castiel’s dress pants.

“I imagine these jeans aren’t fitted, right? They’re like farm jeans?”

“I’m not sure what about the jeans qualifies them to be adequately ‘farm’ but I imagine that description is accurate.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, jeans are probably a good idea. We can put you in fitted jeans. I’m thinking the kind that look sorta faded over the front, you know what I mean? Hopefully you’ve got legs under there.”

“Of course I have legs.” Castiel said, perplexed.

Dean shook his head again, smiling.

“Shirt?”

Castiel took a moment to understand Dean was asking him about what he usually wore with his ‘farm jeans.’

“Sweaters, mostly. T-shirts if it’s warm. And my coat.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “The trench coat? All the time?”

Castiel nodded solemnly.

Dean threw up his hands in an exasperated sort of way but let it go. “I think we’re going to leave you in a dress shirt. Not white, maybe a pale blue, to match your eyes.”

Castiel blushed. He shouldn’t have: there was nothing unusual about Dean making a comment on his appearance. That was why he was there, after all. But there was something about the way Dean mentioned his eyes that embarrassed Castiel. Embarrassed him and made his stomach squirm pleasantly.

“A vest too, I think.” Dean continued, thankfully not looking at Castiel’s face, allowing time for the blush to fade.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Like a sweater vest?”

Dean did look at Castiel’s face now, an expression of mild horror twisting his mouth. “Dude, no! Like one of those fancy vests that buttons in the front.” He gestured with his hands over his torso, as if to help Castiel visualize what he was talking about. “The kind you can keep a pocket watch in.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You mean a waistcoat?”

Dean snapped his fingers. “That’s it! A waistcoat.” He paused. “How did  _ you _ know what it was called.”

Castiel just shrugged again, leaving it at that.

Dean eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer before continuing on to discuss ties.

Dean didn’t know the technical terms for a lot of things. The ‘faded’ looking jeans he was talking about were called medium-wash, and he wanted a boot cut but all he could tell the store clerks was, ‘not those kind that look like they’re gonna strangle his ankles, you know?’ He knew what he wanted based on the look of things and he knew what he wanted the outfit to look like but describing it to the actual professionals was a bit all over the place.

“There’s going to be a lot of blue going on,” he told Castiel as they browsed through belts. “Light blue shirt, darker blue vest – er, waistcoat – and blue jeans. I don’t want too many blacks and whites because I think the main contrast should be between the trench coat and the outfit underneath.”

Castiel startled a bit, focusing on Dean’s face. “My trench coat?”

Dean looked at Castiel as if he were stupid. “Yeah, man. You were really insistent on it. If you’re going to wear it, it should look good with the rest of the outfit and not, like, an afterthought or something.”

Castiel considered that. He never thought about what the trench coat would look like with the rest of his outfit. It wasn’t as if it were an afterthought, it was just that Castiel wore the trench coat. Always. Period. He had just accepted that whatever outfit he wore underneath would look how it looked and there was nothing that he could do about it. It was the outfit that was the afterthought, not the trench coat.

“The trench coat is tan which is like brown so we can’t put you in black,” Dean continued, turning his attention back to the belts, skimming his hands past the black ones. “Because that wouldn’t match. Or something. Also black is too harsh and you’re already super striking, we want to soften you up a little.”

Castiel tilted his head, a smile quirking his lips. “You think I’m striking?”

Dean jerked his head back around to Castiel’s face. “What? No. I mean, yeah, but I meant striking like eye-catching. It’s not my opinion it’s coloring. I mean. Because your eyes and your hair? You know?”

Castiel laughed, ducking his head. “It’s okay, Dean. Tell me about the belts.”

Dean nodded, clearing his throat and avoiding Castiel’s eyes. “Yeah, okay.” And they continued choosing a belt.

Things kept going smoothly, Dean talking about what he was doing mostly for the camera. He didn’t seem to need much input from Castiel so Castiel reserved himself for observing, mostly. Dean’s face had settled into that same expression as the initial judgement: eyebrows lowered, mouth pursed, hand coming up periodically to play with his bottom lip. Castiel dubbed it the ‘thinking face,’ watching as Dean would set fabrics against each other and dismiss certain colors or patterns completely. Dean’s expression would change only when he would turn and ask Castiel a question – his opinion on one tie over another or his usual preference in fit. Dean looked at Castiel with a certain amusement or perhaps fondness that lightened his otherwise hard ‘thinking face’. Even when he was exasperated, there was a corner of a smile flirting with the edge of Dean’s lips.

“We have a theme here, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, not unkindly. “Blue and brown.”

“Yes, Dean, we have a theme,” Castiel answered, trying not to crush the tie in his hands so as not to wrinkle the fabric. “The theme is me. And I like bees.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head to his chest. “I’m not letting you wear a bee-patterned tie to a formal affair, Cas.”

Castiel frowned, trying to stare Dean into submission. Dean took his stare like a champ, unwavering.

They stood like that, neither willing to back down. Finally, Dean brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, letting loose an bereaved sigh. “Why don’t we come back to ties. Shoes are next.”

Castiel didn’t want to put the tie down, certain one of Dean’s people would make sure it was gone by the time they came back. Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t object to Castiel bringing the tie with them to shoes.

“So for the apiaries, do you wear work boots?” Dean asked, trying to alleviate some tension.

Castiel grunted before answering. “Sometimes. I usually just wear my crocs out, though. They’re more convenient.”

Dean stopped, turning to Castiel, face expressionless.

Castiel looked back, unnerved. “What?”

Dean just shook his head, checked the size on a pair of brown wingtips, and carried the shoes with them away from shoes.

Dean was silent until they’d made their way to hosiery. “Okay,” he started, releasing a large sigh. “Okay, I think I might have a compromise.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow, an invitation for Dean to continue.

“I’m not going to let you wear a bee-patterned tie,” Castiel opened his mouth to object but Dean held up a hand to stop the interruption. “But,” he continued, “If I can get you to wear a subtler tie – maybe blue with dull yellow accents of some kind – you can wear bee-patterned socks.”

Castiel squinted at him, still clutching the tie. “No one will see my socks.”

Dean tipped his head in acknowledgement. “The socks will not be  _ as _ visible but wearing these shoes,” He dangled the wingtips. “And if we roll up the cuffs of your jeans, you’ll be showing plenty of ankle. Bee covered ankle.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes further, scanning Dean’s face for some kind of duplicity. He found nothing but open concession, if a little grudging.

Dean smiled, cocky. He held out his hand for the bee-patterned tie.

Castiel handed it over. Dean’s smile widened. “Excellent! I asked intern Claire to find us some tasteful bee dress socks. Claire?”

A young blonde girl stepped forward, rolling her eyes at Dean’s dramatics. “For you, Hasselhoff.”

Dean laughed. “Thank you, Lady Snark.”

She snorted, stepping back behind the camera’s vision with the headphone lady.

The socks were navy blue with a subtle honeycomb pattern, bee line art at the intersection of the honeycomb. Castiel really liked them.

“Can I have multiple pairs of these?”

Dean laughed, louder than Castiel had heard him laugh yet. “Claire, any other pairs?”

Claire nodded, a small smile flitting over her face, before whisking away to fetch more socks.

The tie they found wasn’t as perfect (because it didn’t have bees on it) but the subtle gold honeycomb pattern appeased both Castiel’s and Dean’s preferences.

Though he lamented the tie, Castiel was happy that they were done, at the very least, before Dean led him toward the back of the store where the dressing rooms were. “I need you to try on the shirt, pants, and vest so I can see if they need to be tailored.”

“Waistcoat.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Castiel swallowed a groan as he took the offending objects from Dean. There was a reason he wore all the same clothes he’d had since college: shopping was exhausting.

It wasn’t the full ensemble as Castiel hadn’t yet put on any of the accessories but Dean still scanned him appreciatively when he stepped out. “Goddamn, I’m amazing,” he said, seemingly to himself.

“We do need to take in the bottom of your jeans, though,” he continued, circling, his eyes lingering on how the denim shaped Castiel’s thighs. “And whatever else the actual professional tailor thinks he should take in. Balth?”

The tailor in question stepped forward, winking at Castiel, before sinking down to measure and chalk Castiel’s jeans.

Castiel watched Dean as the tailor worked. Dean only seemed to be sneaking glances at Castiel and otherwise stared at his nails or rocked on his toes. Castiel supposed watching someone be fitted wasn’t very exciting.

“I have a question,” he started. Dean looked over at him, eyebrow raised. “You seem  to know what looks good and what doesn’t which is better than I can say,” Dean snorted but smiled. “And yet you don’t have much knowledge on the technical aspect of things.”

Dean shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I never really had time to read fashion magazines as a kid, you know? When I wasn’t training for hockey I was working at my uncle’s body-shop fixing junkers.” Dean laughed, dropping his head back to lean against the wall. “Before I went pro and had to start dressing for press and stuff, it was really rare to find me out of athletic gear, coveralls, or my dad’s old leather jacket.”

Castiel laughed as well, quickly banishing the unexpected image of Dean in greasy coveralls, rolled down to the waist, Only a white tank top on underneath, also covered in grease.

“So you’re saying style isn’t just inherent to a queer identity?”

Dean laughed again like a bark. “Ha! No, it totally is. I’ve always known what looked good, I just never learned the names for shit.”

There was an exasperated sigh from the woman in headphones. Castiel ignored her. “And in high school? When you dressed terribly?”

Dean shrugged. “We do what we have to when we’re in the closet, you know?”

Castiel frowned but was prevented from responding by Balth, who shooed him back into the dressing room so he could change out of the outfit.

Dean was all business again when he came back out. “Now, normally, we’d pick a bunch of different pieces for you to choose from for the event and to help you dress better in the future but we don’t have time for that! So instead: this is your outfit. We’ll leave Balthazar’s card with you in the hopes you’ll tailor the rest of your wardrobe so the world can actually see your body,” Dean’s eyes raked over him, quickly but noticeably. “But there’s really not much we can do beyond that.”

Castiel nodded, not complaining that this seemed to mean they were done shopping.

“Now, while your clothes are fixed, we’re going to head over to The Roadhouse just up the street. A friend of mine is letting us use her kitchen.”

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Shouldn’t I be learning to cook using my own kitchen?”

Dean snorted, reaching out to clap Castiel on the shoulder and gently steer him out the door. “We do  _ not _ have time for that.” Dean patted  his shoulders a couple times more before letting his hands drop. Castiel found himself missing them. “The producers wanted to scrap this part entirely but this was the bit I was most excited about so I called in a few favors to make sure we could fit it in.”

Castiel couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “You enjoy cooking?”

Dean smiled, grabbing at Castiel’s arm again so he could better keep up with Dean’s long strides. “Yeah, man. Cooking dinner kind of fell to me growing up, so I figured if I was doing it anyway I might as well have fun with it.”

Castiel nodded, his focus mostly on the point of contact on his forearm where Dean was gripping him.

The Roadhouse was one of those small-town bars you might see on tv: always a bar-stool open, worn but well-maintained, a place where everybody knows your name. Castiel briefly imagined himself at one of those barstools before Dean pulled him directly through, without pausing, to the kitchen.

There was an industrial kind of set-up and appliances that Castiel did not understand but Dean seemed completely unconcerned, surpassing all of the fancy things and pulling out a medium sized skillet.

“Now, for everything I’m going to teach you to make – and really for most things you’re going to make in your life – all you’re going to need is a good knife, a spatula, and a decently sized skillet.”

Watching Dean cook was mesmerizing. His movements were fluid, his posture relaxed. The tension that had held his shoulders while they were shopping had completely melted away, allowing Dean to smile more and season with confidence. 

Castiel knew Dean was speaking – ostensibly trying to teach him – but he was so caught up in the performance of it he didn’t take in a word. He wondered if Dean played hockey in this same easy, satisfied way. He made a mental note to turn on a game sometime.

It was traditional for Ted Allen of  _ Queer Eye for the Straight Guy _ to teach his subjects how to make simple and tasty dishes to serve at a party. Dean went on to show Castiel how to make cheeseburger sliders, omelette crostinis, stuffed mushrooms, and, for some reason, pasta carbonara.

“This one isn’t a very party-friendly dish,” Castiel noted between forkfuls. It was really quite good.

Dean shrugged, swallowing his own mouthful and licking at a bit of sauce on his thumb. Castiel tracked the movement involuntarily.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re making any of this food tonight anyway.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked from Dean’s mouth back up to his eyes. “What?”

“I mean, I told you the producers wanted to cut this part. We’re having your event catered.”

Castiel tilted his head. Dean smiled around another forkful of pasta.

“So then why bother teaching me at all?”

Dean rolled his eyes, talking with his mouth full. “Because it’s a useful fucking skill. And I wanted to.” He swallowed and added, “And this food is delicious so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

Castiel ducked his head, grumbling to himself. “Not complaining.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Castiel shot Dean a glare. Dean winked.

The rest of the food that they (Dean) had prepared but the two of them hadn’t eaten was distributed among the crew, Dean’s eyes sparkling at every cameraman’s grunt of approval. The young intern, Claire, came over to sit with Castiel and she and Dean heckled each other while she ate.

The woman in headphones, who Castiel had since learned was named Lisa, approached the three of them as Castiel and Claire watched Dean clean up. “You know you don’t have to do that, Dean.”

Dean just snapped the towel at her. Claire laughed. Lisa just sighed, looking at her clipboard. “Well, we’ve checked off Kyan’s and Carson’s part, and Castiel looks great.” Castiel flushed but nodded his acceptance. Dean pumped his fist. “The guys at Castiel’s apartment say they’re almost done so Thom’s thing is taken care of. You played Ted Allen with your cooking bit.” She shot him a teasingly exasperated look. He snapped the towel again. “So all we have to do is figure out how to incorporate Jai’s culture lessons.”

Dean groaned, slumping dramatically against the counter he had just finished wiping down. “You’re asking for too much, Lis. Cas is clueless about everything.”

Castiel thought he maybe should have been offended but Dean wasn’t wrong. He turned to Lisa curiously.

She sighed, exasperation real this time. “Just make it so he can interact with his guests tonight.” Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Lisa cut him off with a pointed finger. “And talk about something  _ other _ than bees.”

Castiel’s jaw snapped shut and he pouted. This was going to be a party celebrating his  _ success _ with bees. He should be allowed to talk about them.

Dean smiled, all lips and eyes. “His experience today is a pretty great talking point if you think about it.”

Castiel nodded seriously. Lisa rolled her eyes and seemingly gave up on them, retreating back to behind the camera line. Claire punched Dean in the shoulder and followed.

Cameras were heaved back onto shoulders and Dean’s smile changed. It was the same easy smile he’d been pulling out all day, paired with winks and claps on shoulders. It was less creasing eyes and more chin and cheeks. Castiel reflected that he must have been staring at Dean a lot in the past hour or so in this kitchen for him to have noticed.

He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed by it.

Lisa gave them the signal for rolling and Dean brought his hands together, loud and flashy.

“Alright, Cas, we’ve given you a new look, now you just need a new personality to go with it.”

Lisa made a buzzer noise. “Nope, try again.”

Dean laughed but repeated his clap. “Alright, Cas, your guests are going to be hooked in by this new look but now we’ve gotta reel them in with some conversation.”

He raised an eyebrow to Lisa off camera as if to say ‘better?’ She nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

They did this part walking back to the tailor, the cameramen walking backwards, stopping at intervals so Dean could teach Castiel about proper eye contact.

Castiel couldn’t imagine what this segment would look like after the final cut. It couldn’t be very interesting watching a grown man teach another grown man how to have a conversation. Besides which, most of the walk turned into Dean and Castiel just… talking. Castiel enjoyed listening to Dean and Dean seemed genuinely interested in learning about Cas and Castiel couldn’t think how this would apply to talking to other people.

Still, Dean proclaimed Castiel a ‘natural’ by the time they arrived.

“I mean, you’re definitely clueless about everything, but you show genuine interest in whatever the other person is talking about, which is really what you need to have a conversation.”

Castiel wasn’t sure he had genuine interest in whatever the ‘other person’ was talking about or if he was just interested in what Dean was talking about. He made an executive decision not to voice that thought.

It was unusual for the Fab Five to stick around once their work was done: you never saw them at the party they had prepared the ‘straight guy’ for. However, because this was a special case, and because Castiel had specifically extended an invitation, Dean was going to stay for the party. 

Castiel was relieved. Not only because this would take some focus off of him, but also because he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Dean yet.

However, he couldn’t help but tease Dean, just a little.

“It’s a shame Alexei Mashkov couldn’t come,” he told Dean, straight-faced, as he struggled with his honeycomb patterned tie in the mirror. “I’m sure you’re a decent player, Dean, but I’d like to wow my guests with someone exceptional.”

Dean barked a laugh, shoving at Castiel’s shoulder and completely messing up the knot Castiel had been working on. “Sure, Cas, I’d like to see Mashkov put up with your grumpy ass.”

Castiel frowned at the mess Dean had made of his knot but yanked it loose without comment. “He and Jack Zimmermann are friends, aren’t they? And Zimmermann is a ‘grumpy ass.’”

Dean’s grin stretched wider as he fiddled with his hair, checking his reflection in the mirror next to Castiel. “You’ve been listening.”

Castiel hummed in acknowledgement, deliberately keeping his eyes on his tie. Dean hadn’t changed much for the party: taken off his tie, changed his shirt, and added a pocket square. Dean had stripped off without embarrassment, exposing well muscled arms and a surprisingly cushiony stomach. Castiel didn’t allow himself more than a cursory glance and soon Dean was covered again in a black, silky dress shirt.

The wine colored suit he’d had on for filming looked much more provocative with the dark shirt, collar unbuttoned. Castiel would go so far as to call it sexy.

Castiel also refused to take his eyes off of his necktie.

Dean chattered on, seemingly unaware of Castiel’s distraction. “I’m real happy about how the apartment turned out. I wish I coulda done it myself but you know the time crunch.”

Castiel just hummed again. He couldn’t argue with Dean: he didn’t care much for how it looked but it was comfortable, as he liked it to be. And the way the furniture was arranged and the different colors they had painted the walls did make the space more friendly.

Castiel supposed that was the whole point of this exercise. To be friendlier. More welcoming.

If only he could move around some furniture to fix his personality.

“Jesus fuck.” Castiel startled, finally looking at Dean, who smacked his hands away from his neck. “Just let me tie it. Honestly, how did you survive before me?”

Castiel didn’t comment. It had only been a day, but Castiel was beginning to wonder the same thing.

He thought about what Dean had said that morning. Between introductions and exposition to the camera, he’d given a shout out to some kind of charity organization.

 

_ “This collaboration is brought to you by ‘You Can Play’: an organization showing us that if you can play, you can play –  whether you're gay, straight, transgender, bisexual, asexual, or anything in-between.” _

 

Many of those terms were brand new to Castiel. But it didn’t exactly seem relevant to him that morning. Today, he was ‘the straight guy’.

But now he wondered.

“Dean, what you said earlier? In your  _ ‘You Can Play’ _ pitch?”

Dean had finished with Castiel’s tie and was now buttoning Castiel’s waistcoat, smoothing out the fabric. He answered distractedly. “Yeah, Cas, what about it?”

“Just some of the words you used… I’d never heard them before.” Castiel watched Dean’s face, looking for some sign he was saying the wrong thing.

But Dean just frowned, picking some imaginary lint off of Castiel’s lapel before meeting his eyes. “What words are those?”

Castiel shrugged, trying not to look away in embarrassment. “Well, obviously I knew gay and straight. And you’re bisexual so I kind of know what that one is. And since the Caitlyn Jenner thing I knew about transgenderism…”

Thankfully, Dean picked up on what Castiel was getting at. His face softened. “You mean ‘asexual’ Cas?”

“Yes!” Castiel’s body sagged in his relief. “I know what asexual means in terms of science – plants and amoeba reproduce asexually – but I’ve never heard it applied to humans. You’re telling me it’s a sexual orientation?”

Dean’s face had closed off some when Castiel had mentioned plants but something about his honest curiosity must have spurred him into answering. “I mean, yeah. And, hey, I’m no expert on any of this shit, but my brother Sammy looked into it some when he had an existential crisis back in college. He’s demisexual, which is a kind of offshoot of asexuality.”

Castiel squinted. “Demi from the latin dīmidius, meaning semi or half. So half-sexual?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, man? The way Sam tells it, he only feels sexual attraction if he knows a person first. Like he couldn’t do a one night stand because he can’t get it up unless they exchanged promise rings.”

Castiel nodded, his brain working furiously. “So asexuality…”

“You don’t feel sexual attraction at all. Ever.”

And something in his head went  _ thunk. _

“Oh.”

Dean nodded, slipping the newly cleaned trench coat over Castiel’s shoulders and returning to his hair.

This was the absolute worst time for Castiel to have a major life discovery. He had to entertain guests. He had to pull off this new look and seem interesting and confident or else he would embarrass Dean and spoil all of his hard work.

Dean who he did not want to have sex with.

And also Dean who he was attracted to.

Which was apparently a thing.

“Can asexual people be in relationships?”

Dean turned from where he’d been selecting another mini weenie, to raise his eyebrow at Castiel. “‘Scuse me?”

Castiel blushed, aware he’d made some kind of faux pas. “I only mean, if they aren’t interested in people, can they still have romantic relationships?”

Dean snorted. “Uh, yeah, Cas. You can like someone and not want to bone them.”

Castiel blushed darker. “No, of course, I only meant–”

Dean seemed to take pity on him. He steered them both out onto the balcony of Castiel’s apartment, waving at party guests as he went, making glib comments about ‘stealing the man of honor for a bit’.

When they were safely secure on a shadowy portion of the balcony, Dean addressed him. “Cas, what’s going on?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

He hadn’t meant to say it outright like that but Castiel was never one for subtlety.

Castiel wasn’t sure what Dean had been expecting but he was sure by his expression that it hadn’t been that.

He blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“I’m attracted to you.” Castiel repeated. Dean swallowed. “But not… sexually. Which is apparently a thing people can not feel. Sexual attraction I mean. So I’m not sexually attracted to you but I still… want you. And I don’t know what that means.”

Dean looked gobsmacked, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock.

“I thought you were straight.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They were both quiet, looking at each other, then away, then coming back.

This was clearly a lot for Dean to take in. And Castiel understood: they had only really known each other for a little less than twelve hours. Dean was not responsible for handling Castiel’s gay panic.

And from the way he kept running his hand over his face, he didn’t seem equipped for it.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said hurriedly, taking a physical step back, “this isn’t your problem, I shouldn’t have–”

“No, hey, wait.” Dean reached out, his hand taking residence on Castiel’s shoulder in which was a by now common and comforting gesture. “I know how freaky this must be for you, I want to help.”

Castiel’s eyes felt very wide. He was sure his pulse shouldn’t be that fast.

Dean squeezed his shoulder before letting go, clearing his throat into his hand. He avoided eye contact. “From what I understand,” he started, inspecting his hands, “there is a difference between sexual and romantic attraction. Like, it’s possible to feel one and not the other or neither or both or… I don’t know.”

Dean was clearly uncomfortable. Clearly not used to talking about this. Castiel softened, overcome by Dean’s kindness and compassion. This was a feeling he was familiar with: this feeling like a warmth behind his sternum and tightness of his throat. He felt this emotion with strangers and friends alike. Maybe this was… romantic attraction?

“Most people don’t have to think about their romantic and sexual attraction as separate things because they match up. Gay people feel romantic and sexual attraction for the same sex, straight people for a different sex, yada yada. But with asexuals it’s different because they, or I guess, you?” Castiel nodded tentatively. “You want closeness with someone but not, like, sexual closeness.”

Dean tripped and stumbled over his words but it didn’t even matter. Every sentence rang so true. Castiel felt like doors in his mind were opening, he felt like decades of his personal history were only just now gaining context.

Even today, with Dean. There were moments when Castiel was sure he was missing something, sure there was something about Dean that was eluding him. But it was something about Castiel. When he thought about Dean’s defined face and strong shoulders and soft midway, he appreciated it but abstractly. He thought about Dean’s kind eyes and curling laugh and the tactual hands that always found their way to Castiel’s shoulder, arm, or back. For those features he could write sonnets.

“Fuck,” he said simply, tone flat.

Dean laughed, the sound punched out of him. “Yeah. Or not, as the case may be.”

Castiel looked at him for two beats, and then he collapsed in laughter, coming forward to crush Dean into a hug.

They both smothered their laughter into each other’s necks, Castiel with gratitude and Dean shushing him and stroking his hair.

Castiel became aware he was also stroking over Dean’s hair, his fingers absently playing with the bristles at the back of his neck.

“Dean, will you go on a date with me?”

Dean choked out another laugh, this one a little wetter.

“Geez, Cas, you find out you’re not straight only ten minutes ago and already you’re trying to romance me?”

“Are you not amenable?”

Dean pulled back, smiling at Cas and pulling in to rub their noses together.

“Nah, man, I’m amenable as hell.”

 

Normally at the end of an episode of  _ Queer Eye _ , the Fab Five do a quick run down with each other of how the evening went.

This special episode ended with a freeze frame of Castiel and Dean in front of all the guests, holding hands. A title card professing,  _ “Turns out Castiel wasn’t straight. But Dean Winchester still made him look great! Tune in next week for another celebrity episode of  _ Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.*

"* _ We are not responsible for any sexual awakenings that may occur." _

**Author's Note:**

> I had probably a little too much fun picking out Castiel's outfit so here's his tie:  
>   
> [[source](http://www.jeffbanksstores.co.uk/jeff-banks-london-navy-honeycomb-tie-5206)]
> 
> Here are his lovely socks:  
>   
> ([might get me a pair](https://www.boldsocks.com/product/navy-yellow-honey-bee-mens-dress-socks-unsimply?gclid=CMv006jn_NICFY6EswodKJ4Ctg))
> 
> And here's kind of what the general outfit looks like, minus the shoes:  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> I had so many people read this over and help keep me motivated while I was writing so special thanks to Zane and Maddie and then also [Madd](deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com), of course, my wonderful editor.
> 
> Maddie also [drew art for this](http://ozonecologne.tumblr.com/post/162084365148)! Give her love!
> 
> You can reblog the fic on tumblr [here](http://saywhatjessie.tumblr.com/post/161432785490/queer-eye-for-the-straight-guy).


End file.
